


Everybody Hurts

by Nightwang



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Broken Bones, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Rape/Non-con, Prompt: Attempted Rape, Rescue, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwang/pseuds/Nightwang
Summary: "Stupid, he’d been sostupid. Of course Black Mask wouldn’t just give him a beat down. Of coursethiswas what he’d meant by teaching him a lesson. He should have been expecting it. This was Gotham after all."For the prompt "Attempted Rape" for the Bad Things Happen Bingo
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571617
Comments: 27
Kudos: 266





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BearlyWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/gifts).



Jason really, really hated Gotham sometimes. She was grey and wet and cold. Unforgiving. Thick fog sat heavy on the ground, softening the dark edges of the buildings and hiding the filth of the streets.

Jason was not a fan. He could hear Batman in his head. _You have to account for the limited visibility. Don’t be reckless. Take it slow._ Annoying. Red Hood did not take things slow.

He’d gotten a tip that there was some sort of trade going on at the docks. It had been more like an invitation really, a challenge, subtle hints that whatever they were trading, Jason wasn’t going to like it. He was leaning more towards trafficking at the moment. Red Hood had an uneasy truce with most of the drug dealers. As long as it was legit and as long as they weren’t selling to kids, then Hood mostly left them alone.

The warehouse was one Jason didn’t recognise. Small and dilapidated, it looked like a stiff breeze could knock it over. Still, you never judged a book by its cover.

He snuck around the side of the building, aiming for one of the lower windows so that he could get a look inside. There wasn’t any security posted outside. Alarm bells started ringing in Jason’s mind. Why wasn’t anyone guarding the place? He peeked over the edge of the window.

Black Mask was stood in the center of the room, his hand tight around the arm of a young girl. She couldn’t be much older than fifteen, barefoot and trembling in fear as Black Mask held his gun up against her head. Jason glanced around the room. There were at least ten henchmen, all armed, but he couldn’t see anymore civilians. One of the goons stepped up to Black Mask’s side, leaning in to speak to him. From his angle Jason couldn’t read his lips but Roman grinned, slow, and pulled the girl closer to him

“I know you’re there Red Hood,” he shouted, “why don’t you come inside?”

 _Shit._ They’d been expecting him. This was a trap.

The girl looked terrified, eyes wide, whimpering softly. Damnit. Jason couldn’t just leave her there. He had to do something.

“You’ve got till the count of five and then I’m blowing a hole in this bitch! Your choice. One…”

Jason swore softly. It wasn’t a choice at all. He wasn’t about to let an innocent die because of him.

He made his way round to the front, kicking the door in with his hands raised in surrender.

“Don’t shoot dickhead I’m here,” he said. Every gun in the room swivelled to point at Jason. All but Black Mask’s.

He’d pulled the girl in front of him like a shield, the coward.

“Search him,” Black Mask ordered. One of his goons stepped into Jason’s personal space, patting him down and removing his weapons one by one. Jason grit his teeth hard against the urge to pull his gun out and start firing. That would only end up with the girl dead. But he felt naked without his weapons, oddly vulnerable.

His hands were pulled behind his back roughly, rope tied around his wrists tightly enough to start cutting off his circulation. A kick to the back of his knee and he went down with a grunt, just managing to not fall on his face. He glared up at Roman.

“Let her go,” he growled. Black Mask tossed her away from him like trash. She hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to the wall and then scuttling to the door like a frightened animal. Immediately Jason felt better, now that there weren’t any civilians to worry about.

His knees were protesting, even the thick padding of his trousers wasn’t helping. He twisted his hands against the rope and tried burning a hole through Roman with his eyes.

Black Mask regarded him cooly, tapping his gun against his thigh.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble recently boy,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

Jason bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile and shrugged, tipping his head back to slant his eyes at him.

“What can I say? I live to please.”

He was anticipating the blow, rolled with it, and still it almost knocked him over. His ears rang with the force of the hit, the copper tang of blood spilling across his tongue as his cheek tore on his tooth. Roman wasn’t pulling his punches.

Jason spat at him, feeling a spark of satisfaction at the sight of blood on his sleek black suit. Roman grabbed him by the jaw roughly, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks, and leaned over him, forcing his head back at an unnatural angle.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he hissed, hot breath fanning across Jason’s face, “about messing with the wrong person.”

Jason headbutted him. He stumbled back, cursing and gestured to the goon behind Jason with a sharp, angry motion. Cold metal pressed harshly into the back of his skull, pushing him down until his forehead was touching the floor, bent into a prayer position.

“My men have been overdue for a reward,” Roman purred from above him. He pressed a leather shoe to the side of Jason’s head, tilting it over so that Jason was glaring up at him. “It’s two birds with one stone, hmmm, reward for them, punishment for you.”

He looked far too pleased with himself. The urge to shoot him in his smug fucking face was overwhelming.

“You’re going to regret this,” Jason promised, low and deadly serious.

“I doubt that.”

He stepped back out of Jason’s field of view and then his henchmen were moving in, crowding around him. The gun at his head disappeared and Jason seized his chance. Rolling onto his back, hands trapped beneath him, he kicked out, sending the gun spinning across the floor. The goon dove after it with a shout but Jason was already on his feet, barrelling into another body shoulder first, knocking the man to the ground.

The sound of a gun going off was deafeningly loud. The force of the bullet hitting kevlar brought Jason to the floor and knocked the air from his lungs. His bound arms dug painfully into the small of his back, caught awkwardly beneath him. A hand twisted into his hair, pressed his head into the concrete and then Roman was leaning over him, eyes bright with fury, and tapped the barrel of his gun against his forehead.

“Don’t think that I won’t just kill you,” he growled. “It would make my life much easier.”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat. If Roman thought that Jason was going to just lie there and accept a beating, he was sorely mistaken. Roman tilted his head, and then a goon was stepping forwards, a nasty grin on his face and a crowbar in his hand.

What was it with Gotham bad guys and fucking _crowbars_. The back of Jason’s neck was starting to sweat. He strained upwards as the goon approached but Roman just pushed him back down, a hand splayed across his chest and the gun bruising his forehead.

The man looked sickeningly excited as he swung the crowbar down against Jason’s leg. He managed to pull his leg up just in time for the bar to hit his shin instead of his thigh. The crack of his bone breaking rang in his ears, the sudden sharp pain causing him to cry out involuntarily. Still, better a broken shin than a broken femur.

The man lifted the crowbar again and for a moment Jason was somewhere else, the sharp ringing pain of broken bones and the low orange light glinting off of metal achingly familiar. Fear lodged itself in his throat.

“Enough,” a voice said. Black Mask, Jason had forgotten him. The man stepped away, a look of disappointment written across his face. Jason bared his teeth at him. Distracted, he missed whatever signal Black Mask gave.

Hands on his leg. Sick burning pain. He grit his teeth so hard his jaw popped and whipped his head around to glare at the man crouched by his feet. More hands on him and then he was being flipped over, almost breaking his nose against the hard floor. A hand caught his shoulder and pulled him up so he was kneeling. His head spun with the pain of his jostled leg, and the disorientation of the manhandling.

Warmth along his back. Someone had knelt behind him, careful not to touch his shin. His hands were pressed against their stomach, back to his chest. Jason jerked away instinctively and the hand on his shoulder tightened, pulling him back. Hot breath tickled the nape of his neck. An arm wrapped around his ribs, fingers splayed possessively across the plating of his chest armour.

Sweat trickled down his spine, his stomach twisted uncomfortably. What was Roman playing at? The man in question had moved back out of the way, twirling the gun casually between his fingers, a smug grin on his face.

The view was obscured then by another man stepping in front of Jason, an ugly sneer on his broad face. Jason sneered back. Rough fingers fisted into his hair and tugged.

“Hey!” Jason yelped, scalp stinging, “Watch it ugly!”

Ugly’s face twisted up, turning red. He yanked Jason forwards. Unbalanced, Jason would have fallen over if it weren’t for the other man’s hands on him, one on his shoulder, the other sliding down from his chest to cup over his junk.

“What the fuck!” Jason snarled, jerking. Ugly grinned and then reached down with his free hand to unzip himself. He said something but Jason couldn’t hear it over the sudden rush of blood in his ears.

Stupid, he’d been so _stupid_. Of course Black Mask wouldn’t just give him a beat down. Of course _this_ was what he’d meant by teaching him a lesson. He should have been expecting it. This was Gotham after all. Jason had grown up in the Narrows, he was no stranger to this kind of violence. He wasn’t naive enough to think that this sort of thing didn’t happen, that it could never happen to him. And yet for some reason this had still taken him by surprise.

Warm, wet lips pressed against his neck, deceptively gentle, whilst hands worked on the button of his trousers. Jason couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran down his spine. The man behind him chuckled and pressed closer, the evidence of his enjoyment digging into Jason’s lower back, his hand slipping beneath his waistband.

Ugly had pulled himself out of his trousers and was stroking himself inches from Jason’s face. Jason’s stomach bucked. He felt lightheaded, his ears ringing. His trousers were tugged down roughly, exposing his skin to the damp chill of the warehouse. Ugly’s hand in his hair trailed down his cheek to press a thumb against Jason’s lower lip, pushing into his mouth. It tasted of sweat and dirt.

Panic rose in his chest like bile. Fingers brushed the bare skin of his inner thigh and then clamped down with bruising force, the man’s hips stuttering forwards to rub against him.

Jason bit down. Hard. Blood spilled into his mouth, hot and tangy. Ugly yelled and tried to snatch his hand back but Jason clung on stubbornly, promising bloody murder with his eyes.

There was a deafening crash and then Batman was swinging through the broken window, landing in a crouch, closely followed by Nightwing. For a long, stretched out moment, everything seemed to be frozen, Batman and Nightwing taking in the scene whilst Black Mask’s goons stared back dumbly.

Then Batman was moving, dodging bullets as the henchman recovered. Jason let go of Ugly’s thumb and slammed his head back directly into the other man’s face.

Black filled his vision. Batman. He leveraged a savage blow into Ugly’s face. Blood sprayed across the black of Batman’s gloves and Ugly hit the floor with a thud, clutching his face, his dick still hanging out of his pants. Batman’s boot came down on Ugly’s groin in a move that made even Jason wince.

And then he was flowing past Jason, radiating a dark fury. There was the dull thud of a fist hitting flesh, the sickening crunch of bone breaking followed by a shrill cry that cut off into a wet gurgling noise.

“Batman stop!”

Jason turned his head to see Nightwing wrestling Batman off of the guy, his face pale. Batman stumbled back, chest heaving, and as one they both turned to look at Jason. It was unnerving. Jason realised suddenly just how exposed he was. Embarrassment heated his face. He moved to stand up, forgetting for a moment that his leg was broken. Pain sent him back to his knees, gasping. Hands landed on his shoulder and before he could smother the reaction he flinched. The hands lifted immediately and Jason looked up into Nightwing’s pinched face.

“Sorry,” Nightwing said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. Jason scowled. He didn’t want Golden Boy’s pity.

“Untie me,” he grunted. Nightwing pulled out a wingding and sliced through the rope. Jason’s hands were red and swollen, bleeding slightly where he’d twisted against the bindings. Jason pulled his trousers up awkwardly as Nightwing looked down at the floor, his face flushing to match Jason’s. Jason couldn’t quite get his hands to cooperate enough to do the button up so he just left it.

“Did they-” Nightwing started.

“No,” Jason interrupted. Nightwing’s face was pale, his lips pressed together. He looked like he wanted to reach out to Jason, pull him into a hug. Jason was glad that he didn’t.

“It’s okay Hood, if they-” Nightwing tried again, his face painfully sincere. Jason’s felt hot with embarrassment and anger. Dick thought that he was lying.

“They didn’t!” Jason snapped. “Look they just kind of...manhandled me.”

Nightwing grimaced at that and sat back on his heels. He looked sad, kind of like he might start crying. Jason wanted to punch that expression off his stupid face. Dick opened his mouth as if to say something else and then snapped it shut as Batman appeared at Jason’s shoulder.

“Hood,” Batman said, “are you injured?”

“Just my leg,” he didn’t want to look at Batman, didn’t want to know if he believed him or not, “I’m fine, they didn’t do anything. What you saw was as far as they got.”

Batman just grunted. Nightwing looked like he’d sucked a lemon. Jason sensed something sappy coming his way so he changed the subject quickly.

“Black Mask?”

“Gone,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble, “he bailed as soon as we came in through the window.”

“How did you know I was-” Jason trailed off but Batman seemed to know what he meant.

“We didn’t,” the blank mask of his cowl gave nothing away, but Jason could see the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his shoulders. “We got a tip off that Black Mask was up to something.”

“We thought it was some sort of drug deal or something,” Nightwing interjected, “we had no idea that-”

The creak of leather as Batman’s hands clenched into fists was weirdly loud in the ensuing silence. Jason grimaced. He levered himself up to standing, awkwardly, balancing on one foot. Nightwing moved to help him but Jason glared him down.

“Hood…” he said hesitantly, his hands fluttering around like little birds.

Batman took a much more direct route, grabbing his arm and pulling it over his own broad shoulders. Jason yelped and tried to snatch it back but Batman’s hold was firm.

“Batman-” Nightwing started, his mouth a thin line.

“We should get back to the cave,” Batman said, ignoring Nightwing entirely. Jason felt the familiar burn of anger heating his face.

“Get off me!” he snapped, “I’m not going back to the cave with you!”

“You’re injured,” Batman said, like he couldn’t understand why Jason wouldn’t want to go back with him, like Jason couldn’t look after himself.

“I’m fine!”

“Jay,” Nightwing said softly, an annoyingly sincere look on his face. Batman twitched at the blatant lack of a code name, a muscle in his jaw jumping, but kept blissfully quiet. “Just come back with us, let Alfie check you out. Then you can leave.”

Jason really didn’t want to go back to the cave, didn’t want to have to sit through the pitying looks, the cloying concern, the hands on him. Even so, he had to admit, it wouldn’t be easy getting back to his safe house with a broken leg.

Nightwing was still looking at him imploringly, Batman a warm but silent presence against his side. Jason felt exhausted suddenly. He slumped against Batman, feeling his arm tighten around him in surprise.

“Fine. Whatever,” Jason said. He felt too tired to argue. He just wanted to crawl into bed and forget all about this disaster of a night.

Nightwing looked surprised at his easy acquiescence, but Batman just started guiding them out of the warehouse.

“I’ll take your bike back Hood, don’t worry,” Nightwing said. Great. He didn’t like the idea of Dick riding his bike, liked the idea of being trapped with Bruce in the Batmobile even less.

“Sure,” he grunted instead, tossing the keys at him. Nightwing snatched them out of the air easily, but then hesitated, eyeing them both.

“We’ll see you back at the cave Nightwing,” Batman’s tone brooked no arguments. Nightwing’s expression soured, but he didn’t say anything, just turned and headed in the other direction.

It had been a long time since Jason had been in the Batmobile. It had obviously been updated recently and Jason couldn’t help but be a little impressed. He sank back into the plush leather seats and stared out of the window, determined to avoid talking to Bruce at all if he could.

The car hummed to life and then they were off, smooth and almost silent. Bruce was quiet for so long that Jason thought he’d gotten away with it.

“Jason,” he said eventually, his low rumble filling the silence of the car.

“Don’t,” Jason interrupted tiredly. He didn’t know what would be worse at this moment, a lecture from Batman or Bruce’s clumsy attempts at comfort. “Just don’t, B.”

Thankfully, for once in his life, Bruce didn’t push it. They fell into an uneasy silence. Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled, his jaw tight. Jason slumped down in his seat, slouching so low his knees hit the dash, careful not to jostle his leg too much.

Gotham rushed past the window, dark and dirty and ugly. There was an odd sensation lodged in Jason’s chest, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It burned his throat, pricked behind his eyes, and to his eternal shame Jason found that he was on the verge of tears. He swallowed thickly and pressed his forehead against the cool glass, squeezing his eyes shut. It hurt, a bruise already forming where Black Mask had dug his gun in, but the sharp chill against his skin was settling.

Nightwing was already there when they got back to the cave, maskless with his suit pulled down and tied around his waist, like he’d gotten distracted half way through changing. At least he’d had the decency to pull a tank on.

Alfred was there too. Nightwing had obviously told him _something_ , although hopefully not everything. The back of Jason’s neck felt hot with embarrassment.

Dick was looking flustered and unsure, so unlike his usual self. There was a smear of dirt across his cheek, his hair an unruly mess. He’d stepped forwards, presumably to help Jason out of the car, but Batman was already there maneuvering Jason out of his seat. Jason batted his hands away once he was standing and, surprisingly, Batman let him go.

“Here Master Jason,” Alfred said, offering his arm out for Jason to lean on. He didn’t have the heart to brush the old man off so he let Alfred lead him over to the medway. He was surprisingly strong, taking most of Jason’s weight easily. Both Bruce and Dick followed, hovering awkwardly. Bruce had removed his cowl. He looked as tired as Jason felt. And old. Lines creased his face, accentuated by his frown. For the first time Jason realised that there were streaks of grey in his black hair. It made Jason feel uncomfortable for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.

Alfred paused in the middle of examining his leg, seemingly just noticing the two hangers on, and coughed pointedly.

“Master Bruce, Master Dick, I have him well in hand,” his voice was firm but genial, “How about you two go and get cleaned up.”

Dick hesitated, a worried frown creasing his forehead. Bruce’s mouth thinned out, but he didn’t argue, dragging Dick away with a firm hand on his upper arm.

“Thanks Alf,” Jason said quietly once they’d gone. Alfred laid a hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring, and then got back to work.

By the time they were done Jason was barely keeping his eyes open. Alfred had convinced him to at least stay the night and Jason had been too tired to argue. When he reached his old room Bruce was waiting for him, stood by the window looking out into the dark. He’d obviously showered and dressed in sweats, the ends of his hair still damp, he didn’t look like Batman or Bruce Wayne.

He turned around when the door opened, expression unreadable. Sighing, Jason hobbled over to the bed and sat down on the edge, sinking into the soft sheets.

“I’m not in the mood Bruce.”

“Jay,” he said, sounding strained. The nickname coming from Bruce made his chest squeeze uncomfortably. The soft pad of footsteps and then the bed was dipping beside him. Bruce didn’t touch him, but he could feel the heat of him against his side. Jason didn’t look at him.

“I’m not very good at this,” Bruce said eventually. Jason snorted. That much was true at least. Bruce had never been particularly good at the emotional stuff, even when he did try he was always just slightly too awkward, too uncomfortable.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. This time Jason managed to suppress the flinch. When he looked up Bruce’s face was pained, his eyes dark.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that Jason,” he said. His expression was intense. Jason looked away, embarrassment burning hot in his cheeks.

“It was nothing,” he shrugged Bruce’s hand off uncomfortably. “Nothing happened.”

Why was Bruce making a big deal out of this? Jason had been through far worse before, had literally been beaten to death by the Joker, a little broken bone hardly warranted...whatever this was.

“It wasn’t nothing Jay, they hurt you,” he said quietly.

A confusing mix of emotions were swelling in Jason’s chest. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling, so he settled on the most familiar one, anger.

“Why do you even care?” he snapped, turning to fix Bruce with a heated glare, “I’m the fuck up of the family, remember?”

Bruce’s nostrils flared, his hands curling into fists. Jason sort of hoped that he’d take a swing at him and then Jason would have an excuse to punch him.

“You’re not a fuck up Jason,” he said eventually, voice low and rough, “You’re my son. I only want what’s best for you.”

Silence stretched across the distance between them, both men frozen for a long moment. Then Jason deflated with a heavy sigh. It had been so long since Bruce had callen him his son. It touched something tangled and sharp that Jason had buried deep.

To his surprise Bruce reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into an awkward sideways hug.

Jason’s eyes felt hot, his throat tight. Warmth seeped through his skin where Bruce was pressed up against him. He felt thirteen again, young and angry and scared, pretending not to enjoy Bruce’s awkward attempts at comfort.

The hug lasted both far too long, and not long enough. When Bruce pulled away, clearing his throat gruffly, his eyes looked suspiciously damp. He stood to leave, looking rumpled and unsure of himself. He hesitated in the doorway, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

“Thanks, B,” Jason said softly. Bruce smiled. It made him look younger, more like the Bruce that Jason remembered.

“Stay as long as you need,” Bruce said, and then he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

Jason flopped back onto the bed, levering his broken leg up with a grunt of pain. He stared up at the ceiling. He’d leave in the morning, he decided. He didn’t particularly want to hang around the manor for much longer, being here made him feel...claustrophobic. Besides, he didn’t really want to deal with Replacement and the demon brat. Maybe he could sneak out early enough to avoid Dick as well. He could sense another awkward conversation coming up. Dick had always been much more willing to deal with emotions than Bruce, so he knew it would be a painful one. He’d probably get all sappy. God, he hoped Dick didn’t cry.

Well that was a problem for morning Jason. Now Jason was exhausted. Sleep was dragging at his eyelids, pressing him down into the mattress. Damn, there was definitely some perks to staying in the manor. The mattress in Jason’s safehouse was almost as hard as the floor, maybe he should invest in a new one. 

His eyes slipped shut and then he was succumbing to the siren call of unconsciousness as sleep claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos on my first chapter!
> 
> You guys wanted a sequel so here it is :)
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long and that it's not the longest but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you'd like to request a prompt I've still got a lot open so head over to my tumblr! The link is at the end :)

It felt strange to be waking up in his old room. For a moment, he didn’t realise where he was, a sharp gut fear before recognition kicked in.

The last vestiges of a nightmare still clung to his skin, leaving him feeling sticky and gross. He was no stranger to nightmares. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d woken with the taste of earth in his mouth or the phantom ache of broken bones or the sickly green tinge of the pit.

The details of the dream were already fading but he could still remember the sharp tang of fear and the crawling sensation of hands on his skin.

He had to swallow thickly against the salty burst of nausea, digging his fingernails into his inner thigh where finger shaped bruises lay.

He shuddered. It had been a long time since he’d felt this fucked up about something. They hadn’t even done anything really. Touched him a bit. Waved their dicks near him.

Raised skin beneath his fingertips. He’d touched the Y shaped autopsy scars without even thinking about it.

That had fucked him up bad. Coming back to himself - the thick burning anger of the pit fogging his brain - and finding the long neat scars across his chest.

Knowing that someone had cracked him open, had slipped their hands inside him and touched all the parts that should never be touched, had felt deeply violating in a way he didn’t think he’d ever experience again.

The brush of hands on his skin didn’t even come close. So why was he still thinking about it? Still feeling the phantom weight of a body pressed against his back?

The crack of his knuckles as his fists clenched was almost gunshot loud in the dark quiet of his room. It startled him out of the morbid spiralling and sent his heart racing in his chest.

He sat up and pressed his palm against the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling his pulse pounding against his hand, the base of his throat, his eardrums.

He’d wanted to slip out without having to talk to anyone. The talk with Bruce last night had been short but emotional, and Jason wanted nothing more than to escape back to his safehouse and process everything in peace.

It was early enough that he thought he’d gotten away with it, moving through the dark corridors silently - well, almost silently, the cast on his leg made it pretty hard.

When he made it down to the cave though, Dick was waiting for him. He was in the chair by the batcomputer, legs slung over the arm, slouched in a position that looked truly uncomfortable. He was spinning himself slowly, staring down at his lap.

Jason seriously considered just sneaking past him, but at that moment Dick looked up and spotted him, jerking out of the chair like he’d been electrocuted. He looked awful, pale with dark circles under his eyes, his hair flattened on one side and sticking up on the other. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

“What’s up Dickface?” Maybe if Jason kept this light, Dick would keep the sap to a minimum. He wasn’t getting his hopes up.

“Jay,” Dick started, face pained. “Can we talk?”

It took an almost physical effort for Jason not to roll his eyes. He didn’t even get to reply before Dick was continuing, wheeling the chair over so that Jason didn’t have to stand on his leg.

“Are you okay? Well I mean obviously you’re not okay, I’m really sorry. How are you doing? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dick breathe,” Jason interrupted. Dick was wringing his hands, looking flustered. “Sit down as well, I don’t want you looming over me like that.”

Dick grabbed another chair and plopped down into it with a heavy sigh. It felt uncomfortable, sitting opposite each other, weirdly intimate. Dick was jiggling his leg, eyes fixed intently on Jason’s face.

“Jay,” he looked like he wanted to reach over and take Jason’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Jason interrupted, before Dick could launch into another tirade. “Honestly, nothing happened.”

Dick grimaced. “It’s okay to not be alright Jay,” he hesitated, “this kind of thing messes with you.”

Irritation scratched its way up Jason’s throat. He didn’t want to be having this conversation, wanted to just go home and be left in peace.

“Yeah well how would you know?” He snapped.

Dick looked down at his hands, rubbing them across his thighs.

“I- I was-“ he swallowed hard, his mouth twisting like he’d eaten something bitter. Jason’s stomach dropped, cold dread prickling across the back of his neck.

“I was raped,” Dick choked out, sounding strangled.

It was like someone had dumped ice down his back. White hot anger roared to life in his chest and scorched his throat till he was breathless with it

“What?” He said. His voice was tight, an iron band around his ribs. “When? Who?”

Dick was chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ve never told anyone before,” he said quietly, “she- she’s not a problem anymore.”

Jason’s heart was pounding, beating against his sternum. An all too familiar green tinge of rage blurring his vision. His knuckles ached with how tight his fists were clenched.

“I know how it feels,” Dick said softly. He looked up then, meeting Jason’s gaze steadily. “It’s scary. It stays with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, voice thick. He didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt weirdly numb, his tongue too big for his mouth. “It’s not really the same though.”

Dick frowned. Jason cut him off before he could say anything.

“What I mean is, I didn’t get-” he found he couldn’t even say the word, was suddenly oddly proud of Dick for managing it. “They didn’t get that far with me.”

Dick shut his eyes tight and blew a sharp breath out of his mouth. “Jay,” he said, low, quiet. “It doesn’t matter okay. They still hurt you.”

It was an echo of what Bruce had said to him last night. He shook his head, made to stand up. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He didn’t want to be coddled and comforted, he was fine. He hadn’t been-

Hands on his shoulders, pushing gently to keep him in his seat. They were gone in a moment, but embarrassingly, Jason’s breath still hitched.

Dick had sat back down, looking guilty and painfully soft. It just added fuel to the fire already burning in his chest.

“You know,” Dick started before Jason could say anything, “when I was- when she-“ he screwed his face up, puffed his cheeks and then blew the air out in a stream.

Jason stayed quiet. For a long moment the only sound in the room was Jason’s racing heart. He wondered if Dick could hear it too.

“Right after she- raped me I kind of- dated her for a bit I guess?” He laughed but it was humourless, cold in a way that made the hairs on Jason’s arms stand up. “I was going to marry her.”

That sent a jolt through Jason. Dick had been going to marry his rapist?

“Dick,” he said. It sounded strained to his own ears. Dick held his hand up to quiet him.

“I guess I thought that it wasn’t really rape, that it was just… non-consensual,” he grimaced, like the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jason felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach rolled over uncomfortably, throat working as he swallowed against it.

Dick looked down at his lap where he was twisting his fingers together. Flushed, eyes damp, expression haunted.

“I enjoyed it,” he whispered, so quiet that Jason almost couldn’t hear him, “I must have done I mean I- I- got hard.”

Salt burst across his tongue, prickling at the back of his mouth. His stomach bucked. He breathed in deep, pushed himself to stand just as Dick said, a whisper breath.

“I came.”

Jason managed to turn his head to the side in time to throw up on the floor instead of himself. Stomach aching, acid burning up his throat, he coughed. Groaned. A warm hand was resting lightly on his back, rubbing soothing circles.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said when Jason leaned back, panting.

“Don’t apologise,” he croaked. Dick pulled back and Jason turned, catching his fingertips. They were hot between his own.

“I upset you,” Dick murmured, tugging Jason back over to sitting.

“Not your fault,” he grunted. He tried catching Dick’s eye but he was looking stubbornly at his lap. “You know that not how it works right? Just because your body...reacts doesn’t mean that you wanted it.”

Dick smiled. It looked wrong, like he’d borrowed it from someone else and it didn’t fit quite right on his face.

“Yeah, I know that now,” he didn’t exactly sound convincing but Jason wasn’t going to push the point.

“This wasn’t supposed to be about me,” Dick said eventually. “I just meant-“ he looked at him, caught his gaze. Dick’s eyes were red.

“I told you this because for ages I felt like I had to be okay, that because it was a woman and that I didn’t fight back and that I- I enjoyed it, then I didn’t have a right to feel bad.”

Sweat was forming between their joined fingers, clammy and uncomfortable. Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

“I know now that it’s okay to feel upset.”

“I get it,” Jason said gruffly. Dick rolled his eyes.

A quiet cough, polite but purposeful. Jason snatched his hand back, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

“Hey Alfie,” Dick said, looking as flustered as Jason felt. God how much of that had Alfred heard? He didn’t seem like the type to eavesdrop but still, neither of them had heard him enter.

“You’re still here Master Jason,” Alfred said, stepping closer to lay a warm hand on Jason’s shoulder. He looked pleasantly surprised, like he hadn’t expected Jason to stay, but was happy to see him.

Guilt curdled in his aching stomach. Even after all these years upsetting Alfred still made him feel small.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head out now though,” he said. His voice sounded rough to his own ears, thick with emotion. The hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, like Alfred wanted to keep him there, before he let go.

“Master Jason, I insist that you stay for breakfast, when was the last time that you ate?” Alfred’s tone was no nonsense, but Jason knew that if he really wanted to leave Alfred wouldn’t stop him.

He hesitated. He’d missed Alfred’s cooking, had missed Alfred. He didn’t want to have to see anyone else though, could do without the Replacement and Demon Brat asking questions. He also, desperately didn’t want to see Bruce. Even though their conversation last night had been brief, it had been...emotionally draining.

Jason was used to fighting with him. Even now, with their improved relationship, they mostly argued or just ignored each other. Bruce was never going to approve of Red Hood’s methods, even if Jason was trying not to kill people now.

This tentative peace, the genuine concern Bruce had shown, made Jason feel weirdly wrong-footed. Sitting at the table with him and Dick like the old days, with Tim and Damian like one big happy family was not going to happen.

“Everyone else is still in bed,” Alfred said, like the mind reader Jason suspected he was, “I made waffles.”

Damn, how was Jason supposed to turn that down. Dick was grinning at him, the smug bastard. The previous tension had bled out of the room and looking at Dick’s stupid face, Alfred a solid presense beside him, Jason felt a sudden fondness settle in his chest.

“Fine,” he said rolling his eyes. “Help me up Dickface.”

Alfred’s pleased smile made it all worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I'm terrible at endings haha
> 
> I have a tumblr at nightwang96 if you want to stop by for a chat!


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